


Silver Bullets on her Tongue

by margaerytyrell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:19:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margaerytyrell/pseuds/margaerytyrell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The new girl in town is a menace to Sansa Stark's social life and sanity. Still, there's something about her that's far too intriguing to pass up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Bullets on her Tongue

She comes in the middle of summer with dresses and curls and smiles like sunshine that she gives out like candy. She falls into warm nights with blood-red lips and eyes as black as night sky. Single-handedly she’s charmed them all with her tales of gambling and drunken nights. She rules them with her voice like chocolate and her lemon-cake smiles.

Margaery Tyrell has two faces and Sansa Stark has seen both of them. She’s seen both and she hates them equally. 

The first stage was a cold-shoulder, and it hurt. The new girl in town paid her no mind, but it didn’t take long for her to snatch Joff.

(Sansa doesn’t much miss him but the bitter sting of knowing that there was someone better leaves a less-than-pleasant aftertaste.)

First was Joff, but the girl came for her next. Some bizarre confidence has convinced the girl that her bright red smiles and deep, dark eyes could buy the love of others. And for some even stranger reason, for the most part, it works. She’s said nothing, but she gives Sansa her dark glances with a layer of molten rock shifting beneath them. 

Sansa Stark is a woman, and a woman can let rage boil beneath her skin without letting it break the surface, and that is what Sansa Stark does. Gravity seems to flip its poles to rest beneath Margaery Tyrell’s pointed heels and fighting the natural force of the Earth wears the younger girl down each and every day. 

“Sansa, right?”

A voice like silk between lips like rose petals and gravity breaks Sansa Starks bones.

“Yes,” she snaps like the wolf she’s been said to resemble, and Margaery greets her with nothing but a sweet chuckle. 

“Had a rough day?”

It’s this shallow attempt at caring that hurts her and burns her skin and, for the first time in her life, Sansa thinks she might not care if something awful were to happen to Margaery Tyrell. 

She’s taken her town, her boyfriend, her sanity, what else can the vixen possibly want?

“You probably hate me,” Margaery smirks, stirring her tea. The yellowed sunlight pouring into the cafe makes her skin look like gold. 

A woman doesn’t voice her disgust, but that doesn’t stop Sansa from nodding.

What else can she _possibly_ want?

“I like you, Sansa,” she states as plainly as a comment on the weather. “I like you a lot.”

That shocks her, but not nearly as much as the soft hand that rises to stroke her face and the eyes that seem less like a molten river on her skin and more like a molten river pouring directly into her. It doesn’t shock her as much as her traitor of a heart leaping in her chest and not even as much as the blush that rises to her face. 

“I suppose you do.”

Her voice betrays the weakness that’s filling her faster than she can understand, and Margaery knows it the moment a sound escapes her lips. It takes two racing heartbeats for the older girl to close the gap between them and to take the last of Sansa Stark with no resistance.


End file.
